The ending of 'Do Dragons Exist' is one of those bittersweet closures that lingers in your mind long after finishing it. The protagonist, after years of chasing myths and whispers across continents, finally stumbles upon an ancient cave hidden in the Himalayas. Inside, they find not a living dragon, but the skeletal remains of one—alongside carvings that suggest dragons chose to retreat from humanity eons ago, foreseeing the destruction their existence might bring. The final scene shows the protagonist sitting silently beside the bones, holding a single scale that crumbles to dust in their hands. It’s a metaphor for the fragility of wonder in a world obsessed with proof, leaving you torn between awe and melancholy.
What really got me was how the story framed the dragons’ disappearance as an act of self-preservation—not for themselves, but for humans. The cave art implies they saw how greed and fear would twist their legend, leading to wars or exploitation. It reframes the entire quest: instead of proving dragons existed, the protagonist realizes they’ve been mourning what humanity lost by never coexisting with them. The scale disintegrating feels like a final message: some mysteries are meant to stay wild, not solved. I adore how the book leaves room for interpretation—was it all real, or did the protagonist project meaning onto an ordinary fossil? Either way, it’s a masterclass in thematic payoff.